


Lives

by rokujin



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Female Nakamoto Yuta, Light Angst, M/M, Mention of Jaeyu, Romantic Comedy, Winyu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokujin/pseuds/rokujin
Summary: Sicheng didn't really care about the theory of reincarnation. Until he realized how much he actually missed out on life, and on him.





	Lives

_"When one passed away, they reincarnated into a new life."_ It was one of those Oriental oral myths told by his parents when he was young. It wasn't something scary like most of the stories were, but the concept of it confused him to no end until he grew up. There were many versions of it, of course, depended on what part of Asia were you on, but Sicheng's birthplace, China, was really proud of themselves as for where the whole myth originated.

But no one was actually been through to stand right in front of him and confirmed it. Yes, he had read lots of articles of evidence all around the world, but he still needed face to face confirmation. Was that weird?

He decided to ignore all of this because obviously, the Western people have a different opinion about the afterlife so he wouldn't dwell too deeply in this. It wasn't like he was going to remember anything at all when he died, and he didn't want to test that.

So the not-so-normal Chinese boy grew up and became a famous idol. With his busy schedule with (oh so) many sub-units, the concept of afterlife successfully stored away into a small corner of his mind.

The people love him, and he was happy that all of his efforts were worth the while. Even though he got a small amount of screen-time and line in the first few years of debut, fortunately, it wasn't a problem anymore as more and more subunits fit his style formed.

He had a successful life that every man wished for: He was famous, he was rich, he got a beautiful and caring wife, he had two small angels that he loves dearly. But he feels like something was wrong, something was missing.

He feels like something, or more exactly, _someone_ was supposed to be so attached to him, so clingy, and so affectionate toward him that he feels like he was going crazy right then yearning for that non-existed warmth.

Not only that, at some point in life, he even felt like his four beloved teammates weren't even his teammates that had been with him for more than ten years straight. Sometimes the choreography just came up to him naturally, without any practice beforehand; and he didn't even know when he learned these.

As the weary and alien feeling grew more and more and the deep regret he felt (out of nowhere) expanded greater and greater until he felt like he couldn't breathe. Not a good sign for an old man in his nineties like him.

Before his breath came to a complete stop, his eyes suddenly filled up with tears. Flashes of images of a sun-radiating smile, bruised bodies, and tears, ripped contracts, shouts of pure disgust, a cold body in his hand, and the miserable life of a whole group suddenly went through his mind in that final five seconds of his life. (But hey, at least the _you see flashed of your memory before you die_ was confirmed.)

_"What gender do you want to be in your next life?"_

_"Female."_ And another healing smile of his.

_Female huh-_

Maybe next life, or the life after that, other the ones after that, the world would be more accepting toward them. And for this life, he had deserved his punishment.

\- 7 -

It was right, as far as he could remember. The myths of the afterlife were real all along. About having to drink a bowl of soup (it was soup right? He heard it was something else in other countries) to forget everything and reincarnated into new flesh. Sicheng didn't see a lot of the (typical blond hair blue eyes) foreigners around when he was in line at the bridge (there was surprisingly a long line of souls in front of him), guess that religion also took account in this matter, too.

He knew the consequences of not chugging up that suspicious forgetting soup of hers: reborn into an animal. But the thought of forgetting everything dear to him already haunted him for good in his last life thank you very much. Lots of the souls chose to do the same as far as he could see (how did they consume that thing anyway? With a mouth? What mouth?).

Few moments passed and it was finally his turn. A skinny old hand holding a small bowl of clear water liquid appeared itself under the dark grey coat of the old lady (?) in front of him. The Chinese boy didn't take it, and he didn't intend on taking it even if he died again his next life. With that, he stepped on the bridge.

As he completely crossed the bridge, the cloaked figure slowly lifted up their head at his direction before carrying on with the next soul.

\- 2 -

An eagle wasn't something Sicheng thought about knowing that he would become an animal anytime soon.

He knew his fans used to use symbols and stuff to minimize the time to write their names, and he would be written down as a small yellow bird on Twitter. It was cute, he admitted since he knew that he was cute himself. But a damn big _buffed_ eagle is not something he expected (he did grow a lot taller and buffer his first life but his debut image would forever remain in his mind.)

It was rough being an eagle.

He almost fell to his death on the day he learned how to fly. His eagle mom (that was rarely seen being around anywhere relatively close to _her child_ ) just casually threw him out of his sleeping state in his nest into the air and he could see the _rocky_ bottom of this _rocky_ hill slowly zoomed in (and zoomed pass) closer to him with every second passing.

Sicheng had been a good boy and he had never sworn. But pardon himself when he gave up some of the most disrespectful swear words he could muster up in his beautifully thick vocabulary storage.

On the process of growing up and (thankfully still) living his life, he didn't manage to get a hold of lots of his acquaintances. He did some survey around his area as well as further down north or south depending on the weather; but sadly, no one he knew could be seen. And yes, he did take into consideration that his friends might get reincarnated into animals, too. The only one he did get a hold of, thankfully not too long after his ramble, was Jaehyun. (Finally, no more honorifics since this bald eagle was born two years before the equally bald wolf.)

They were still both handsome in their animal form, mind you.

He had mixed feeling with the lone wolf, and obviously, the other party also thought the same thing. It wasn't rare for two rival to be up against each other faces trying to show off their best trait to attract a certain _someone_ while trying to rip each other's throat out. But at the same time, he was somewhat Sicheng's older brother who he comfortable standing on stage and sharing feelings with.

But still, rivals were still always rivals.

He found out that the wolf had met a _certain cat_ on his way to this fairly deserted area due to the hunting season. It took them two days to decipher that sentence due to languages barrier. _Two days_.

 _"He is beautiful. Like always."_ (That took half a morning) He remembered the fond admiration dark brown eyes of the wolf, bearing the exact amount of emotion he saw when they were both humans. And Sicheng didn't blame him, because he would (and already did) do the same every morning he woke up with _him_ in his arm.

 _"Despite being a wild cat,"_ the wolf paused (they already formed a new sign/body language at that time) while still walking with the eagle on his head (yes), _"no,_ because _of being a wild cat, he is still so damn loud whenever he opened that mouth of his."_

Sicheng laughed. Their conversation these past few years had always been the same topic. About _him_. Whether it was about his human's life or his cat's life, they carrying on talking with no end. They never met him, no matter how far they tried to search. They just couldn't even see a bit of the _remaining_ of him.

Oh, Sicheng forgot to mention: The hunter caught up with Jaehyun that same _day_.

\- 1 -

Sicheng wondered how many lives had it been for him. Five? Seven? Was this the seventh one? He couldn't tell.

Every time he tries to find him full of hope, the big but fragile hope got crushed terribly and horribly for both Sicheng and _him_. He remembered trying to drink the soup thinking _that_ was the reason why their lives were always turned downhill, a punishment; but the moment he finished it, or when he opened his eyes again, he still remembered _everything_. He broke the promise of not drinking this soup in his first reincarnation.

That happened a few lives after that, too: Wouldn't be able to forget the pain of seeing his lover die in front of his own eyes. Sometimes he didn't even get to say _hi_ before _he_ got killed off.

As he waiting for his turn in the line of souls (again), a sudden wave of anxiety washed over him. _"Something is different."_ He thought. With each step (fly?) closer to the lady (he still didn't know what their true form looked like) the more intense the feeling grew. Finally, when his turn was up, he took the bowl and drunk it like always. This time, however, the cloaked figured looked up at him (he still couldn't see anything) and nod.

And right before he reached the end of the bridge, he heard a faint and hoarse whisper of _"you have finished your deed"_ or something along that line.

He took the final step.

\- WY -

Sicheng woke up with a massive migraine in his head. He shouldn't have agreed to Doyoung and Ten on going out for _a small congratulation party_ as they put it. Nowhere in his memory was the damn thing _small_ nor it was a _congrats party_ , but more like a damn _big past-curfew club with lots of alcohol involved_ kind of party.

Thankfully for their sorry asses, he was still on his sacred and scarce holiday off work and wouldn't have to deal with another five hours of stress with a migraine as a bonus. But his biology clock in his body still decided to be a good worker today and woke him up at six in the beautiful (not) morning.

Mutter a curse under his breath, he stood up the gather his clothes before going into the bathroom and trying his best not to look like a had a hangover.

Comfortably dressed up in a blue shirt and jeans, he headed out in the cold January weather toward his favorite coffee shop.

Drinking his favorite latte (not top of his list but it keeps him awake alright) while enjoying the peaceful classical music in the shop, Sicheng got disrupted by a small knock on his table. A flash of annoyance appeared on his face before dissolving to the rest of his handsome countenance.

He looked up with seemingly (and hopefully) a normal or relaxed expression (he didn't want whoever this person was had to deal with his shit).

"How can I help yo-"

The sentence was never finished. In front of him was a girl, a woman, looked like she was a few years younger, or a few years older than him considered her mature aura yet innocence shy face. She was dressed in a comfortable oversized pink sweater and ripped black jeans. Both of her slim beautiful hands hold a cup of latte (the same one he is drinking and don't ask why he is trying to find the similarity they share on the first two seconds they meet) with a small purse position somewhere in between. Her soft brown hair looked so soft that his hands were itching to reach up and pat the hell out of it. Her face was the most perfect face he had ever seen (he might be biased, but he didn't care) like an angel has decided that they pitied his pathetic life with his clearly-don't-have-a-brain friends so they paid him a visit. And then she smiled. She even had the audacity to _smile_ like _that_. Holy shit the _smile_. THE _SMILE_. He feels like she just de-buffed all of the negative effects a healed him back to full blood from his pathetic 1HP. But there is something else about her, he didn't know, made him just want to stand up and embraced this stranger and never let her go. It was a weird feeling, but he always believed in his heart. (And his mind for once didn't disagree with him.)

"Excuse me, may I share this table with you? Every other table in this shop is full and you are cute."

He looked around to check and see- _"Hold up that wasn't the main point!"_

He quickly caught himself before his head even directed anywhere but her. Alright, if this was her tactic of approaching him, then he would do the same.

"Sure, _beautiful_." He smiled brighter as the look of her confidence face turned completely red, obviously not used to the counter-attack. "May I have your name and number as an exchange, please?"

He could feel her tense decreased as she seated in front of him. _Was she scared that I would reject her? Cute._

"Thank you." She smiled again, a calmer but more endearing and genuine smile. Oh, crap, his heart was about to jump out please stay put as you had always been.

"My name is Yuta."

A big thump. Pain. Despair. Desire. Yearning.

"Nakamoto Yuta. Nice to meet you."

And then, for the first time in his twenty-five years of living like a robot, he cried.

(He then later found out this mfk was anything but a shy and calm girl. Being annoying and loud was her forte but nonetheless, she is his annoying and loud mfk and he was proud he was the only one who could put up with it.)

**Author's Note:**

> So hey. RK is here. I decided to write this short story after burying myself in NCT for a good amount of time. This is my first NCT work, and I hope it works out well for everyone. Not beta-d yet.


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